“Our land is trapped in a civil war because the Sisters are allowed to exist. Because they refuse to let the true lords of this land rule.” Zidewa’s eyes looked darker than usual.
Tersh still wasn’t sure if this was a trap. Did these men want to incriminate her? “You had civil war before the Sisters, isn’t that so?”
“Oh, yes, that is true,” Zidante said, before even translating what Tersh had said to his uncle. Watallis gave him a nod and Zidante continued to speak. “It was two brothers fighting over the throne that started all this, but it all should have ended a hundred and fifty years ago. The King Over the Mountain had a daughter, and the King Under the Mountain had a son. Their marriage should have been the end of the war, but Nesa was a spiteful woman. She gave her husband only daughters. And when the King Under the Mountain sought another wife to give Matawe a son and rightful king, those daughters, those Sisters, stole their brother’s throne.”
“So you admit the Queen of the Mountain is a usurper?” Tersh asked quickly.
Zidante and his uncle shared a quick exchange before the younger man continued. “The Sisters took power through religion. They were raised in the temple of the Moon God. They were considered blessed and holy. The people loved them. Do you understand? The Sisters hold power because the people still see them as holy, the chosen messengers of the gods.”
“They claim to speak for the gods?” The very thought that those women might claim the same powers as a Rhagepe infuriated her more than she knew it should. But the Rhagepe dedicated their lives to the gods; they sacrificed everything they had to them. Those women sat on thrones and grew round on fine foods. There was nothing holy about them.
“They never say so, but they allow the people to believe it, continuing the tradition of having their daughters raised in the temples, while their sons become little more than servants. You see—that is why your presence here is dangerous.”
“That’s why you tortured me,” she realized suddenly.
To Zidante’s credit, a flush of shame crossed his face. “My mother commanded me to convince you to deny you were a Whisperer. And I…I wanted to see if you had the conviction to deny it. You impressed me.”
Tersh tried to contain her anger. She could still feel his fists hitting her. The three all looked at each other, trying to figure each other out. If Tuthalya hadn’t come when he had, forcing them to acknowledge her publicly as a Whisperer, would she still be in that dark hole now?
“You want me to speak out against the Sisters—”
Watallis cut in, saying something slowly, a smile forming on his wrinkled face.
“No, we want you to prove you speak for the gods. If you prove you can, and the Sisters continue to ignore your warnings, then the people will be forced to admit the Sisters are false.”
“So you and your uncle can take power?” Tersh narrowed her eyes.
“No,” Watallis finally spoke. He had a heavy accent, but it was clear he could speak the language of Mahat well enough. “So we can take back power.”
ANTEANA-NECH’O
MEN OFFER THEMSELVES TO THE ALTAR
The Red Pyramid. They should have named it the Red Mountain. There it was, lying in the distance. Close enough to see but still a journey of three days or so from where they stood, atop the tall, thin pyramid called Anteana-nech’o, or Antean’s Perch. They’d arrived in the morning, and after the regular greeting ceremony in the huitl’s home, they had climbed the steep stairs that ascended nearly vertically. For Sha’di, climbing to the top meant he would be able to see the destination the gods had charged him to reach.
Tenok was excited to see the view, Qayset was curious enough, and Belam was always up for a challenge, so they decided to join him. Soon they were racing each other to reach the top first, leaving Sha’di behind. He felt apprehensive even though he thought he’d feel elated. Zera was halfway through Pekari, and he’d left his people when the wandering star had only just entered Orope. He should be relieved he was so close to his end goal, but his stomach was cramping, and he had to stop several times on the stairs to catch his breath.
The pyramid he climbed, painted like an amethyst with tangerine stripes, was famed for being the tallest pyramid in all the Grey Mist—save for Chipetzuha. By the time he reached the top, Sha’di was gasping for air, while Tenok, Qayset, and Belam laughed at him, sitting at the top of the stairs and enjoying some nuts.
Nnenne was excitedly squawking on his shoulder, perhaps aware of the presence of several anteans nearby. There were dozens of the massive white birds crooning together. The top of the pyramid had a thick pedestal, and atop that was a wide nest the birds had taken over. That was the other thing this pyramid was famous for. Apparently, they had been the first to tame the antean, to start spreading messages from pyramid to pyramid. And since it was the closest to Chipetzuha, all the news from the capitol and the atls came here first.
“I think…only birds…are supposed to be…up here,” Sha’di gasped, leaning against the pedestal for support.
“If you can barely make it up here, I doubt you’ll make it up the Red Pyramid,” Tenok said while he waved his hand towards the north, and Sha’di saw it. It was impossible. It was massive. It stuck out of the foliage and kept going up and up. It was very wide, and atop the flat peak, he could just make out a structure, like the huitls’ homes atop the pyramids in the jungle but far, far larger.
“It can’t be…no one could…” From the look of confusion on their faces he realized he had slipped back into his own language. He tried again, but for a moment seemed to forget every word he’d learned since coming to the Grey Mist.
Tenok laughed loudly, making a few of the anteans flap their wide wings in annoyance.
“No man could build that,” Sha’di finally managed to spit out his thoughts.
“We are the Pyramid Builders; it’s what we do,” Tenok said with all the pomp and snobbery of the best huitls and then immediately started laughing again.
“No man did build it,” Qayset said, rolling her eyes slightly. “Not really—” She swatted a fly from her leg.
“What do you mean?” Sha’di asked, going as close to the edge as possible, his eyes focused only on the pyramid in the distance. From the gap in the trees he could tell there were other structures there, but they were hidden behind leaves and mist and the dimming light as the sun set to their left.
“They say it was a mountain, but the Petzuhallpa cut and shaped it into a pyramid,” Qayset said with absolute certainty.
Tenok scoffed. “Just because your people cannot fathom how to make a pyramid—”
“Ha, problem is we understand fine, but you are blind by pride. You see no truth,” Qayset shot back, but she didn’t sound annoyed. In fact, when Tenok finally managed to pull his eyes away from the gargantuan structure, he saw they were smiling at each other. Looking at them, at the way they acted together, you’d think they were childhood friends, or…
“Maybe it really was the gods who built it,” Belam suggested, looking at the structure with wonder in his eyes.
Sha’di wondered if the gods really could build structures. Had the gods built the Rhagepe’s Temple? “What’s it matter?” Sha’di asked. “It exists.”
Yes, it existed. He’d been hearing about this place for so long, travelling towards it for so many turns of the moon, he had built it up in his mind as maybe being a myth. Some days, he felt like he would spend the rest of his days walking through the jungle. But here, finally, he could see it. It was real, and atop it lived an Ellpe, and when he saw the Ellpe…
“I feel cold. Do you feel cold?” Sha’di looked at them both.
Tenok shrugged. “The north is a bit chillier than what I’m used to, but not really. I feel hungry, if you want to head back down.”
“If you’re hungry, why not eat one of those juicy anteans?” Qayset winked at him.
“I do not think Tahuan-huitl would appreciate us eating his messengers,” Belam said with just a hint of dis
appointment. Tahuan, the Anteana-nech’o-nahuitl, was the ruler of Anteana-nech’o.
“Yes, food,” Sha’di said absent-mindedly, his eyes turning back towards the Red Pyramid, the last on the sunlight catching and glinting off something metallic at the top, like a star twinkling to show him the way.
“Today we honour the feast of Tawolukil-Sipakti!” the Grand Priest raised his hands above his head and the lords and ladies assembled in Tahuan-huitl’s hall cheered in response.
Sha’di had tried desperately to understand the calendar the Petzuhallpa used, but it was simply impossible to keep track of all the days and how each one represented a different god or direction. For Whisperers it was easy. One only had to know the twelve ruling constellations, and if you somehow forgot which one you were currently in, you only had to look up to the heavens and find where the wandering star Zera lay.
The Petzuhallpa had two completely different calendars. There was the xupeiwali, which was roughly the same amount of time it took Zera to travel through one of the constellations. This calendar was only used by those who tended to the forest gardens, who needed to know the best time to till and plant and harvest, who needed to predict when the great rains would fall.
Then there was the tenpeiwali, which was used to track the passing of a spiritual year, and it only had two-hundred and sixty days. It was the one used when giving your age or to say what day it was. Sha’di couldn’t understand why they needed two separate calendars running at the same time. Apparently, it took fifty-two years for a day to ever repeat itself, and this was known as the Life Cycle.
Several of the days in each calendar marked feasts dedicated to gods. Sha’di had already witnessed a few. The day he had arrived in Chultunyu with Tetchtok it had been a Sipakti feast. On these days no one had to work and everyone spent the day leisurely or drinking with friends. But the feast he was seeing now was apparently a very auspicious one since Tawoluki was the favoured deity of Anteana-nech’o.
Sha’di had listened with interest to Xupama’s flowery explanation of what god was being honoured and why, until he realized that before the feast could begin, a sacrifice would be made. And it wasn’t just one sacrifice this time. Eleven men lined up, apparently representing the eleven sons Tawoluki had sent among men to do great deeds. Sha’di had asked to excuse himself, but of course Xupama had only scoffed, refusing to even translate such a slight to Tahuan-huitl. Tenok had looked mildly uncomfortable, but told him he would have to stay as long as he wanted to represent the Whisperers.
Belam was the only person who tried to steady him. The large man had come up beside Sha’di, putting a hand on his arm, maybe trying to keep him from running off and disgracing them all. It reminded him of how Tanuk had tried so hard for Sha’di to understand this was a necessary part of life.
“All of these men, their lives meant nothing before this moment,” Belam had spoken with something like pride. “This ensures them that they will not have to travel through the dark caves of the afterlife. Tawoluki himself will guide these men to safety, and they will live by his side, joining him and his real sons.”
We must look like heathens to the Petzuhallpa, Sha’di had tried to remind himself.
The men were not killed at the main altar at the entrance of the hall, which pointed north towards the pyramid, but at the eastern altar inside the chamber. It meant the smell of blood quickly overpowered the incense in the room. The huitld and chakatls were polite enough not to say anything when he lost his stomach after the third man’s heart was ripped from his sternum, but he did receive cold looks for the rest of the feast.
Belam had patted him on the back when it was all over, and the audience started cheering. Then the blood was washed away and the food was brought out for the feast. To his amazement tables and cushions were set around the still bloody altar for Tenok, Yupanchi, and the other esteemed lords. The others were not given a place to sit and milled about the hall.
Outside the main entrance, Sha’di could see the bonfire that had been lit after the sacrifices had finished. The bodies of those sacrificed, minus their heads and hearts, had been set aflame, and the commoners were dancing and making merry around it. Sha’di wished he could have snuck away with Qayset that morning. She was free to come and go as she pleased, though he had a responsibility to win these people over.
“Look,” Belam nudged him out of his reverie.
Sha’di lifted his head and looked towards the seated lords, Belam nodded towards a young man sitting to Tenok’s left.
“Tenok told me another huitl’s whelp had joined us.”
“The man in copper?”
He was shirtless, and bore no colour on his skin, but needed none since his skin was as copper as the amulets, greaves, and his skirt sewn with copper squares. He looked like a statue, not just because of all the metal about him, but because he looked too perfect to be a real man, with his strong jaw, straight nose, intense stare, and muscular physique. And clearly the man knew how perfect he looked, because even seated he looked down on all the other guests with the cockiness of a man who’d been lucky in every aspect of his life.
“Does Tenok know him?”
“Only by name. He’s from Ixk’inmetzu, in Chultun. His name is Maarku.”
On the dais Maarku’s hand kept absentmindedly playing with his hair, and his hair was oddly stunning. It wasn’t straight like other men’s, but curly and full, and Maarkus clearly enjoyed it, shaking it as he laughed, throwing it over his shoulder and then letting it fall back over again.
“Is there something important about him?”
Belam grinned. “What do your gods tell you, Whisperer? Yupanchatl, Maarku-chakatl, they are not the only two travelling to Chipetzuha. They’re coming because word of you has spread. This is a good thing…ah!”
Belam got distracted by a tray of sweets and followed after the servant carrying it, leaving Sha’di to stare at the smug man. The huitls were travelling to Chipetzuha because of him? He didn’t know if he should be relieved that so many were interested in hearing what he had to say or nervous because it meant there would be that many more people who might dismiss him.
Maarku noticed him then. Their eyes locked, and he made the smallest hint of a smile. Not a kind smile, but the smile of a man about to step on a scorpion. He leaned back, speaking to one of the men waiting on him. That man, in turn, went to Tahuan-huitl and whispered something into his ear. Sha’di turned away, not ready to confront any of these men. He hadn’t solidified in his mind the plea he needed to give, to make them believe, to make them turn to the old ways.
The sound of a man clapping silenced the room. The musicians stopped playing, and the only sound was from the spirited commoners in the plaza outside.
Tahuan-huitl rose to his feet. He looked like the other huitls for this region. He had the elongated skull of the nobles, as well as several piecings in his ears and lip, though his jewels and garments were obviously of a richer quality than the chakatl around him.
“I believe it time for some entertainment, do you not agree?” Of course there was a quick and unanimous murmur of agreement from everyone around him. “Shall we have a dance? Or some sport?”
“How about a speech from this Whisperer I keep hearing about?” Maarku asked with a smug grin.
“Bah, too tedious for a feast such as this,” he dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and Sha’di couldn’t help but grin. “I much prefer sport. What do you suggest, Tenok-huitl?”
Tenok looked slightly surprised to be acknowledged and stuttered for a moment. “We always wrestle on feast days, it is a favourite sport of ours.”
He smiled and clapped. “Yes, how wonderful. You should wrestle for us.”
“Me?” Tenok sat up straighter, laughing uncomfortably. “My skills as a wrestler are hardly suitable for you, Tahuan-huitl. Any of my warriors could best me at my greatest strength, and I confess I’ve had one too many drinks—”
Tenok trailed off as the huitl interrupted him. “Nonse
nse, this is a feast of huitls, and it should be the huitls proving themselves before the gods.”
“And, uh,” Tenok hesitated, but his face looked resigned and he stood up, “with whom should I wrestle to amuse our fellow huitls?”
A hundred people began to call out a hundred names. A few strong looking chakatl stepped forward looking to find favour, and clearly gaging that Tenok would be an easy opponent in a wrestling match, but Sha’di called out a name above all the rest, and Tenok picked out his voice.
“Maarku-chakatl,” Tenok turned towards the man, who was lounging with a cup of wine to his lips. “I’m sure all the women would enjoy seeing your prowess in action.”
“I’m sure they’re not the only ones,” Maarku said under his breath, lowering his cup and giving his best smile. He could have refused, but he would have looked like a fool, which would have suited Sha’di just fine. You could tell a man like him had never been humbled in his entire life and could use a little humility. “Yes, of course!” he announced loud enough for everyone to hear, jumping to his feet. Sure enough the women were cheering loudly for him.
Everyone immediately cleared a space in the middle of the room, and the two men removed their excess clothing, tunics and jewels and headdresses, until all that remained was a simple loincloth. Stripped of his copper accessories, Maarku still looked impressive —maybe even more so because now all the focus was on his muscles, which he began to flex and show off with a grin. Tenok rolled his eyes but looked slightly self-conscious, his thin arms and legs were nothing to show off, save for the bright red dye on his dark skin, which he’d recently had the chance to reapply.
“Now, the for the winner’s sacrifice, hmm…” Tahuan-huitl announced, still on the dais.
“The winner’s sacrifice?” Sha’di asked Belam.
“Yes, the winner must give up something of great value to him,” Belam nodded, looking rather excited, though perhaps he’d just had a few too many cups of wine.
“The…winner? Not the loser?”
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 27